


On Her Majesty's Service

by khevzs



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst for days, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Help, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Slow Burn, also unit unity stuff, am i ticking all your boxes, byron is scylla's brother what else would you want, byron lives in ao3 now, can't tell how far I'm taking it tho, eventual mature content, knight x princess AU, mother/daughter struggles, subpar action scenes because i cannot write, tooth aching fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khevzs/pseuds/khevzs
Summary: Raelle Collar was 11 years old when she realized that the only thing she ever wants to be when she grows up is a Knight worthy to serve under Princess Scylla Ramshorn's banner. What she didn't know at the time was that before that happens, she's going to lose her mother in an attack orchestrated by the very woman she swore to serve.Finally an official Knight now, she and her team of three is tasked to track the Princess-turned-fugitive and her brother, Prince Byron Ramshorn. Will she be able to bring her mother's death to justice as old feelings resurface?***Or another Knight x Princess AU, but make it friends to lovers to enemies to lovers slow burn because we need more of it
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather / Raelle Collar / Tally Craven, Abigail Bellweather/Raelle Collar/Tally Craven/Scylla Ramshorn, Raelle Collar / Willa Collar, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn, Scylla Ramshorn / Byron, Willa Collar / Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 49
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was late to the #RayllaValentine celebration because I was sick, but here is my contribution, finally! This is my MFS writing debut so please go easy on me ksksksks
> 
> If you want to see the poster I made for this story, it's here: [OHMS Poster](https://twitter.com/khevzs/status/1361316879881543685)
> 
> Also, everybody say thank you to my wonderful beta [RayllaChokehold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayllaChokehold) because without her sharp eyes, this will be a giant mess!

Five years.

It has been that long since the Medea Kingdom quite literally fell to the ground after an attack that started from the inside. For the next two years since that dark night, the Kingdom has slowly risen again from its old ashes. Only this time, there’s something different about the place where Raelle Collar grew up. Darker, maybe. It’s not easy to put a finger on, but it feels like the kingdom is now an evil twin of the dead one.

The castle towers over the town like a brooding king. As it should, because the previous King died at the hands of his own children and a tragedy like that never really goes away. It stays like a dark cloud casting shadows over the castle, the streets, the markets, and every corner of the Kingdom Raelle has been destined to serve from a young age. Her mother before her, and her mother’s mother, going back and back to the time when the Collars laid roots in this land as servants to the throne.

And like the castle, Raelle is a brooding young Knight. A result of tough training and tragedies too many to count. The losses weigh heavily on her shoulders, one of which is the tragic death of her mother, which she hefts everywhere, unwilling to let go. It’s helpful in a fight, she claims. She can pull from it, and use it as a will to wield her sword one more time, or to throw just one more punch. But when they’re not under attack by petty gangs and thieves on the road, she carries it quietly.

That’s just how Raelle Collar is built.

And really, Abigail Bellweather should have known. They have been training together since they were fifteen, after all, ever since they were new squires. But sometimes, like right now, it doesn’t stop Abigail from taking Raelle’s elbow and pulling her away from the door of their shared room.

“Would it hurt you to look lively for a couple of hours?”

Raelle wets her chapped lips then presses them into a thin line. She is also a woman of very few words, so Abigail continues, “It’s a _celebration_ , Raelle. People are out having fun. A brooding girl such as yourself is going to draw attention.”

“I’m not going there to have fun.”

Abigail finally lets go of her elbow. “I know, but you have to _look_ the part. You also don’t have to bring all these weapons. It’s a recon task.” Abigail adds quietly, “Hopefully the last of this long year.”

Raelle eyes the knife tied to her ankle, hidden under her trousers, the dagger on her hip, hidden by her surcoat, and the two swords on her back, held by an intricate leather holster tied across her shoulders. “This isn’t a lot. Just enough to keep us safe.”

“I can handle myself, thank you very much.” Abigail turns to walk back to the little table at the corner of their candlelit room. She starts to remove her own sword from her belt, the knife from her waist, and her other leather accessories which made her look remotely like a bodyguard to the royal court. When she looks back at Raelle again, she hasn’t moved from her spot by the door. Abigail rolls her eyes. “Come on, just bring the knife.”

Raelle slowly, hesitantly, removes the sword holster and the dagger from her waist to throw it on to her bed. “Happy?”

“Good.” Abigail walks back to the door and opens it for both of them. “Now look joyful for a second.”

“You talk like a man,” Raelle grumbles, but follows Abigail out of the room anyway.

They walk the short distance to their destination in silence. The inn that they have been lodging in for the past two weeks is only a twenty-minute walk from the center of the town, fifteen at the pace the two women are walking.

When they arrive, the plaza is bustling with townspeople in various states of intoxication. On normal days, the plaza is also a market lined with booths filled with fruits, vegetables, and various kinds of meats for the townspeople to buy from. However, the stalls are covered tonight, except for a makeshift bar at the corner selling ale and wine. 

Upon turning the corner, a drunken man nudges Abigail’s shoulder and she throws a glare at him. He has half the mind to mumble an apology and disappears into the darkness. The huge bonfire set up in the middle of the plaza only lights a considerable amount of space, and some of the surrounding buildings are cast in moving shadows.

Looking around, Raelle spots the origin of the music that’s filling up the vicinity. A band is set up on a temporary stage north of the bonfire, at a safe distance from the crackle of the flames. It’s a small town, and most of them are farmers, fishermen, or merchants in the market, so it’s only natural that the five people who are playing the banjo, flute, bongo drum, harp, and bassoon to the tune of a ceremonial folk music are people they have already come across in the past two weeks.

In fact, both Raelle and Abigail recognize almost everyone who is in the plaza tonight. It’s a huge festival to celebrate their plentiful harvests this season, despite the challenging drought, a thank you to the goddess, and so it’s safe to assume that this crowd is almost all of the population of the small town of Rhamnion, in the Kingdom of Didame.

Which makes their job easier, because it means that anyone not in town tonight is worth looking into.

They’re so close. So very close to their targets that Abigail can almost smell it in the arid summer air. They haven’t been this close before. Sure, there were a handful of times that they _thought_ they were close to their marks, only to realize later that they had been following dead leads. But this time, it’s different. There’s a vibration in the air that’s telling Abigail they will hit their marks soon, and it’s not just due to the atmosphere of the festivities.

Raelle would be lying if she didn’t admit it herself, but she can also feel it in the air—the end of their mission, especially in the way her hands shake, like they can feel soft, familiar skin at their fingertips.

The blonde tries to hide how bad her hands are shaking by grabbing a mug of ginger ale at the bar. Abigail grabs one for herself as well and then tosses a few coins to the man behind the bar.

Together, they survey the area one more time in silence. Abigail voices out what Raelle has already realized, “I’m already eliminating a couple of people here, but I’d like to wait until the event is halfway through before I make a conclusion.”

“Ditto.”

And so Raelle spends the rest of the night on the outskirts of drunk people dancing around the bonfire, silently finishing a couple mugs of ale, as Abigail dares entering the throng to rub shoulders with townspeople.

***

“I told you to liven up a little. People were looking at you, you know.” Abigail shuts their lodging’s door behind them and glares at Raelle.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be gone by daybreak.” Raelle sits on her bed and impatiently unties her boots.

Abigail rolls her eyes and proceeds to take off her outer garments as well, neatly folding them in a pile on her own bed, shoes properly aligned at the foot of the frame. Raelle silently eyes her leader’s methodical movements and thinks not for the first time, _Bellweathers, the perfect Knights_ —because they are, Abigail’s whole bloodline. Raelle used to hate her air of confidence, walking around the training grounds like she owns the place. And unofficially, maybe the Bellweathers do, because almost every single high ranking official and trainer on the grounds has the Bellweather blood, in exclusion of a very few. In fact, the Knight Commander is Abigail’s mother, Petra Bellweather. And Raelle is just, well, someone from a short and young bloodline that has almost nothing to its name except loyalty.

At the beginning, Raelle thought she was very unlucky to have been teamed with Abigail, and under Abigail’s leadership at that, on both their first years as squires. However, not long after, she started to think that maybe she was lucky to be with her, especially considering everything they have been through as children. And recently, how many times they have been attacked on the road by smugglers and wild animals, and the many times Abigail had her back—both hers and Tally’s. Abigail may have come from a stuck-up bloodline, but she’s not so bad as her own person.

The start of their relationship back when they were just squires may have been unsteady, but they have found their footings now, a steady stride side-by-side, as _equals_.

When both have finished getting settled for the night, Abigail faces Raelle’s bed and tries to decipher the image of the other woman through the haze of the only candlelight in the room. The shadows play on her golden hair and her high cheekbones, darkening her blue eyes, and accentuating the long scar on the left side of her cheek.

Some other people may not notice anything unusual in her eyes, but Abigail has spent every waking and sleeping moment with her for the last couple of years to know that she’s hiding something. But like most other things, Abigail chooses to brush it aside for now because she also knows that Raelle will not open up when pushed. She opens up when she wants to. That’s just how Raelle Collar is built.

“So?”

The blonde rests her back on the stiff headboard and crosses her legs along the length of her bed. “You know that talkative fisherman that the fish merchant mentioned last week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t think I saw him tonight, or his wife.” 

“I didn’t either.”

The two women share a look across the foot of distance between their narrow beds. Not being at the festival can mean a lot of irrelevant things to their mission, but it can also mean that the man and his wife are trying not to be seen around a large group of people, not even for a town celebration. A reason like that warrants checking out because the runaways that Raelle and Abigail are trying to track would do something like that.

“You mentioned about being gone by daybreak?” Abigail asks.

And this is one of the many things Raelle likes about Abigail. Ever since they started working together—really _together_ and not against each other—Abigail will occasionally allow her to take the reins and lead their small team. A trust like that, especially from a Bellweather, holds weight, and Raelle is thankful for it.

“If we leave by dawn, we’ll be at the fishing port by morning, just in time for the fishermen to be unloading their catch.”

Abigail turns to face the ceiling, softly sighing. “What about Tally? She isn’t back yet.”

At the mention of the third and last member of their small special team, the redhead, Tally Craven, Raelle allows a small smile to grace her lips. 

“She’ll find us.”

Abigail quietly chuckles with a shake of her head. “You’re right, she will. I swear sometimes she has the nose of a bloodhound.”

“That’s what makes her the best logistics expert.”

They share a small laugh before the room falls quiet again.

“So that’s the plan now, I guess,” Abigail breaks the silence, voice half asleep.

“Yeah.”

Raelle listens until her leader’s breaths even out, and then she slides to comfortably settle on her tiny bed. She makes sure her dagger is under her pillow for easy reach, and despite being anxious about tomorrow; she finally closes her eyes as well.

If she falls asleep almost immediately, it’s all thanks to the ale.

***

Raelle Collar was a young paige when she realized that all she would ever want to do was serve the Queen.

She was play-training behind her mother’s quarters one day, fooling around with a wooden dagger that Willa had gifted her for her last birthday. Willa had cleared this space deep in the woods for Raelle to spend time in; she was the Associate Training Commander and was often busy training older kids, which left Raelle alone for much of the day.

Raelle threw the wooden dagger at the target made of dried hay and it missed, disappearing in the mass of trees and grass. When she walked out of the clearing to retrieve it, she noticed the unusual quietness of the area. As if the trees and the wind made way for something—or _someone_ , as Raelle would soon realize.

When the blonde looked up after picking up her dagger, she saw a young girl alone at the edge of the trees, seemingly lost. Raelle had the advantage of being behind the trees at the other end, so the girl could not easily see her. Raelle observed, like Willa told her. _Be wary of strangers._

The girl’s robe was of a deep red in color, like blood, dotted with crystals here and there, and Raelle was fixated for a moment by the way the tips of her dress graced the dirt under her bejeweled shoes. Her first thoughts were, _they’re getting dirty,_ and, _I don’t want her to get dirty._

For a young girl, she moved gracefully down the path, like water, a path Raelle’s own feet had created from all the times she went to and from the clearing. That must have been what the girl was following when she realized she was lost. She had probably hoped to find her way back out of the woods.

Her shoulders were straight and steady, hair brown and wavy. If the cleanliness of her dress and skin weren’t enough of an indication, the air of confidence around her signaled that she couldn’t be anyone but of royal blood.. The freckles on her face highlighted her rosy cheeks. The setting sun glinted at her sharp jawline, sharp eyebrows, and soft nose. And her eyes—her eyes were _otherworldly_. They were so blue that Raelle’s young mind didn’t have anything to compare them to.

So, instead of being cautious, Raelle was entranced.

Oh how her mother would have been displeased.

Raelle was so entranced, in fact, that she didn’t realize the brunette had finally spotted her from her hiding spot. When Raelle realized, she startled, and squared her shoulders to stand at her full height, which wasn’t very far from the other girl’s own.

“Who are you?” Raelle questioned.

It might have been the distance between them, but Raelle thought she saw fear play at the girl’s eyes when she glanced at the dagger in her hand. 

“Who are _you_?”

Raelle hid the weapon behind her and dropped her shoulders to look non-threatening—however an eleven-year-old could manage to look threatening in the first place. 

“I’m Raelle. My mother is Associate Training Commander Collar.”

At the sound of a familiar name, the other girl relaxed. She knew Associate Training Commander Collar, she sometimes spent dinner with the King, along with her officer, Training Commander Anacostia Quartermaine, the brunette’s favorite Knight, if she was being honest.

Finally at ease, she walked forward in small steps until she was standing by the makeshift target, studying it, connecting dots in her mind. So the blonde was training in this area, by herself, presumably because her mother was busy with training classes. Nothing wrong with that, and maybe even a little lucky, for the brunette’s part, because she really didn’t want anyone to know she had snuck out. _Again._

“Well, Raelle Collar,” she said, the name uttered like a delicate song, “I am Scylla _Ramshorn_.”

Raelle would recognize that last name anywhere; after all, it was the surname of her King. So, upon recognition, she startled and fell down on one knee, a little too ungracefully for an aspiring Knight. She looked down to the ground under her dirty knee, and murmured with an embarrassed blush, “Your Highness.”

Just like her Mama taught her. _Remember, never look the royalties in the eyes, Raelle, and address them nicely_ _._

How was she supposed to do that, Raelle wondered then, when the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen were of royalty?

“At ease, please,” Scylla murmured. When Raelle finally stood up, she realized the pink in the Princess’ cheeks was more obvious then, and what she said next revealed why. “I’d appreciate it if you could not tell anyone I was here.”

“Did you snea—“ Raelle clamped her mouth shut, realizing she didn’t have the right to ask any questions. “Of course, Your Highness. I will take it to my grave.”

Scylla giggled into the back of her hand. Apparently, she found the last sentence funny coming from the mouth of a young girl so lean it was a wonder the wind hadn’t carried her away. To promise something like that was quite naïve, Scylla thought. After all, what did they both know of the future? It was a long ways away.

Raelle thought the wind and the rustling leaves may have quieted so the only music was the Princess’s giggle. It was beautiful.

“Also,” Scylla continued shyly, “it would mean a lot to me if you could, uhm… walk me back to the palace.”

A favor. For the Princess. Raelle’s small calloused hands had never held anything more valuable. And so she squared her shoulders with determination, lifted her chin up, and opened her palm to the direction Scylla came from.

“This way, Your Highness.”

Earlier, when Scylla got lost, she had simply taken the wrong direction at a fork in the path. As they walked back together now, she realized that if she had taken the other path instead, she would have found the way out by herself. That would have been preferred because then no one else would know that she wasn’t really in the palace library. However, for some reason, she didn’t mind that it was Raelle who found her—or rather, that _she_ found Raelle.

She thought the way Raelle spoke and stood was quite interesting, as well as endearing.

While following the worn path in silence, Scylla observed Raelle’s side profile. She was way too serious for her age, Scylla concluded. The wooden dagger hung from her leather belt, a scratched hand securely grasped at the handle, ready for anything. The blonde of her hair softened the afternoon sunlight, which made a halo around her thin face, emphasizing her high cheekbones, and her pointed and determined chin. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, and Scylla thought it amusing that that was the only part of Raelle that was soft.

It was then that Scylla realized she would like this person around her for longer.

“Raelle Collar.”

The blonde almost stumbled over her own feet, but continued on her stride, matching the Princess’s. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Just call me Scylla.”

Raelle looked at her like she had grown two heads, expecting her to take it back. Scylla’s command was serious though, so Raelle stared straight ahead again.

“But… you’re my future Queen.”

Scylla suddenly stopped, so Raelle did too. They faced each other in the middle of the forest. The wind picked up in that moment and Scylla watched Raelle’s blonde hair whip across her cheeks, her eyes looking anywhere but at her.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Scylla sincerely asked, scared that if she did without permission, she might scare Raelle away.

Raelle heard the voice of her mother in her head: _everything in this land is theirs, Raelle, including me and you._ So naturally, the eleven-year-old was confused as to why a Princess who literally owned everything in this land was asking for _permission,_ and from a lowly kid such as herself, too.

“Of… of course, Your Grace,” Raelle stuttered. _I am yours._

Scylla lifted a hand to delicately cup Raelle’s cheek and forced their eyes to meet. Raelle had never felt anything quite that soft in her entire life, not even her mother’s highest quality shirt, or their softest pillow. And her own mother certainly never held her so carefully, from what she could remember.

Raelle’s breath hitched at the eye contact. The Princess’s eyes were intense, and Raelle was scared for a second that she could see right through to her soul. Raelle was young, and she didn’t have secrets yet, but there was that irrational fear, regardless, of what the Princess might see.

Would she perhaps see that Raelle felt like she was committing treason by looking into the Princess’s eyes?

And why did this crime feel exhilarating?

“I will not hang my status over your head, nor anyone else’s, so please, Raelle, from now on, just call me Scylla,” the brunette uttered sincerely.

An unusual desire. From her future Queen.

Raelle found she didn’t mind the request, not from her soft voice, soft hands, and even softer eyes. In fact, she took pride in it, to be requested upon by Princess Scylla Ramshorn of the Medea Kingdom. It felt like a gift, and Raelle didn’t receive a lot of gifts in her life.

So she nodded and answered, although the name felt like a sin on her tongue, “Always… _Scylla_.”

Scylla looked pleased, if the small smile on her pink lips was any indication, and then they proceeded to their destination.

When they arrived at the back of the palace and Scylla had disappeared into a gaping window, leaving the blonde behind in the dusk, Raelle thought that serving the future Queen didn’t sound so bad at all. Perhaps it would be the only thing she would ever want.

Oh how naïve she had been.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That sounds like a good place to stop, no?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t run from it forever, Raelle.”
> 
> If looks could kill, there really isn’t any way to tell who would be left alive, because Abigail’s glare is just as strong as Raelle’s. Their horses feel the tension between the women, and they snort in protest, kicking dirt.
> 
> “I’m not running _from_ it anymore, Abigail.”
> 
> Raelle climbs onto her horse and lightly kicks his sides, leaving Abigail behind in a gallop. It isn’t long before she hears Abigail’s horse catching up behind her, and as she listens to the rhythmic beats of the hooves hitting dirt, she whispers to herself.
> 
> “I’m running _to_ it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, it's all thanks to RayllaChokehold that this fic is even presentable enough for the public ksksks

As a new squire, Raelle was already a pretty intense child. The moment she turned fifteen and was officially transferred to the care of the castle lords, her training immediately began. Her mother, Willa Collar, was a second-hand to the Training Commander, Anacostia Quartermaine, and as a result of living with someone in such a position, Raelle had already practically grown up in the training grounds while trailing behind her mother. The whole squiring ceremony was all but a formality for her.

Willa was an overbearing mother, Raelle would admit. She took everything seriously, her role as a second-hand and as a mother, which was most of the time one and the same for her. Her way of showing care was to drill Raelle to the ground with training, even during her breaks. Any other child would have thought it abuse, but Raelle didn’t mind, not really. She wanted to be as great of a Knight as her mother to prove that Collars were worth something, and to also maybe someday be worthy to serve at the Queen’s feet.

Scylla Ramshorn may still be a Princess now, but by the time Raelle was knighted, it would only be a matter of years before Scylla was the Queen. Raelle would be ready to serve her by then. She wanted naught but to give her life to the heavens-eyed girl.

“Collar.”

The blonde jumped at the sound of her name and immediately stood to attention. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was her superior, Anacostia.

“Were you daydreaming again?”

The training grounds had been cleared a couple of hours ago, and Tally and Abigail had long returned to their shared room. Raelle only stayed to squeeze in a couple more hours at the archery field. It was her weakest weapon so far. However, pretty soon she found herself thinking of a certain brunette with a disarming smirk and wasn’t getting any training done.

“No, ma’am,” she lied between gritted teeth.

Anacostia walked around to face her. She had cleaned up, taken off her uniform, and was just wearing a usual surcoat then. She looked ready to rest for the day, unlike Raelle who was conscious of the way the sweat dripped down her temple, and of the quickly cooling liquid on the back of her shirt.

“I called you twice.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Anacostia sighed and relaxed her shoulders. She put a hand on Raelle’s shoulder. 

“That’s enough for today. Go back to your quarters immediately, your mother is waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Raelle bowed and immediately turned to run out of the training grounds.

The squires’ lodging was a five-minute walk from the training grounds. Jogging, however, it only took Raelle three minutes to get there. Willa didn’t always visit her, so when she did, Raelle knew it was about something important, and she wasn’t above making her mother wait. Her time, like she always said, was important.

Like Anacostia promised, Raelle found Willa waiting at the front door of the quarters she shared with the other squires.

“Momma,” Raelle panted.

Willa, looking every bit like Raelle herself with her blue eyes and golden hair, looked up and down disapprovingly at her disheveled form before she sighed in defeat. It was the end of a training day, after all. She could let it pass. 

“Follow me.”

They rounded the squires’ quarters and walked north to the side of the generals’ quarters. Raelle wondered only for a minute before she realized they were going to the stables. They went in, and Raelle just quietly followed as disturbed horses snorted in complaint. What happened to her mother’s horse? She wondered. Why were they visiting her in the middle of the night? For a second, Raelle feared that maybe something bad had happened to her horse and Willa thought she was to blame.

Eventually, they stopped at the third to the last door, and behind it was a glorious black stallion—definitely not her mother’s white mare.

“This,” Willa pointed at the horse, a glint in her eyes as she watched her daughter’s reaction, “is yours.”

Raelle’s jaw almost fell to the ground.

Willa may be too tightly wound for others’ liking, but she loved Raelle in the only way she knew how. Raelle had been asking her for a horse since she was fourteen, a year before becoming a squire. Willa didn’t think she was old enough to safely ride a horse back then, and Raelle was still too short at that time to get onto an adult horse. Now that she’d finally had a growth spurt and matured enough to know danger, Willa thought it was time to give her one.

“He’s…” Raelle looked entranced as she walked closer to the stable doors. The black stallion snorted in greeting, tentatively reaching his nose over the doors, dark beady eyes held a warning— _hurt me and you’re over_. Raelle slowly reached for his cheek so as not to scare him. That first contact felt like _love_ , now that Raelle knew what the word meant. 

“He’s beautiful.”

A smile finally graced Willa’s lips, the corners of her eyes crinkled in the same way Raelle’s did.

“Happy birthday, Raelle.”

Raelle turned to her mother with tears in her eyes. They very rarely did it, but Raelle made an exception in the moment and flung her arms around her mother in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Momma.”

Willa sighed in contentment and returned the hug, albeit awkwardly.

The next morning, the first thing Raelle did when she opened her eyes was bring her horse to the clearing behind her mother’s barracks. She had decided to name him Theron, and was eager to begin building a bond with him.

Scylla was already there, waiting, and upon seeing the smile on Raelle’s face, couldn’t help but be infected. She could see how excited Raelle was to finally have a horse, although she was still pulling him around by the reins.

“Well, look at him.” Scylla walked around the horse to inspect, and finally came to a stop next to Raelle. “He is glorious.”

“I named him Theron.”

The horse neighed at the sound of his name and Scylla chuckled, a childish sound that made Raelle’s chest hurt.

“A hunter, untamed.” Scylla turned to look at Raelle. “Just like you.”

When their eyes met, the look in Scylla’s blue orbs made Raelle’s chest constrict tighter. And when the Princess took her hand, not for the first time—as they had been quite touchy lately, at Scylla’s initiative mostly—Raelle thought she might just pass out. _Aye, definitely not untamed._

“A hunter, maybe. I’m not so sure about the untamed part.” _Because you got me pretty much under control._

And Raelle hated the way her voice came out breathy, almost needy. But Scylla didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t mind, because she smiled indulgently and said softly, as if she knew, 

“Right.”

Raelle watched Scylla’s tongue as it wet her plump lower lip. She then bit her lip, obviously thinking, and seemed to make up her mind as she leaned closer.

“Happy birthday, Rae.”

The stars may have finally aligned properly last night, because Scylla was filled so suddenly with brazenness that she hadn’t felt before. It gave her enough courage to do what she had dreamed of doing since she realized she wanted to last year. The moment her soft, pink lips made contact with Raelle’s cheek, she imagined her ancestors rolling in their graves, Kings and Queens going back and back, all losing their minds at a royal blood kissing a squire.

And the best part of it was that she _didn’t care_.

Raelle’s senses were filled with the scent of the familiar mix of lavender and sun, and it hit her no differently than it did the first time. She felt the world turn upside down under her feet. She was scared for a second that her knees would buckle. That would have been embarrassing, like the pink in her cheeks wasn’t already embarrassing enough.

The kiss ended faster than Raelle would have liked, but Scylla leaned even closer to whisper softly, “Now you can take me around on your horse like a proper Knight.”

Raelle blushed even deeper, rendered speechless by what just happened.

Scylla then finally leaned away and flashed a blinding smile. 

“But first, let me teach you how to ride.”

It was one of the last happiest moments Raelle had ever had.

***

“You remember, don’t you?”

“I don’t remember shit.”

Acting nonchalantly, Raelle pulls at the leather strap in her hand and the saddle on her black stallion cinches tighter. The horse neighs in playful protest and Raelle smiles, the only time she ever does in the past five years, really, while softly brushing his flank with her palm. 

“It’s okay, bud.”

She finally turns to Abigail with a raised eyebrow and instantly hates what she sees. Abigail looks like _she_ remembers. Her brown eyes are soft, as soft as a Bellweather is capable of, and her eyebrows have a certain tilt towards the center of her forehead. Raelle knows the look. Abigail reserves it for rare moments. It means she’s worried about Raelle, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the danger of their mission.

It feels like Abigail wants to say something else, but thinks better of it and instead says, “I’m talking about the day you got him.”

Raelle looks at the majestic horse that has been with her since she turned sixteen. Theron is a little thinner now, what with a diet of only hay and chopped vegetables that Raelle manages to save for him during this long journey. When it’s getting late and they’re forced to camp in the many forests they’ve been through, she allows him to graze. In the occasional times that Tally comes back with a supply that is a little more than enough for their small crew and their horses, Raelle saves the extra to feed him as treats. Sometimes she thinks it’s why he still likes her, although she knows that their connection runs deeper than that.

“ _That_ I remember, aye. It was an important day.”

“Do you also remember coming back to the quarters after taking him for a ride, all flushed and—“

“Don’t!”

Abigail looks down at the open hand Raelle has raised in her urgency to stop Abigail from finishing her sentence. It’s barely noticeable, but Abigail knows where to look, and the shakes are indeed there, like she suspected. Raelle follows the path of her stare and realizes that Abigail saw it, so she clutches her hand close and hides her fist on the side of her thigh.

“Not today, Abi,” Raelle grumbles, turning her back to the other woman as she walks back to the door of the lodging they just vacated. Realizing the outburst may have been too harsh, she adds, “Please.”

She then finds a pointed stone from the dirt, draws three wavy lines, one below the other, and finally puts the stone at the foot of the door, specifically pointing it north.

The symbol is a code their team uses to help find each other. It’s to let Tally know where they went once she comes back from collecting their supplies two towns over, from a noble family that is an ally of the Medea Kingdom. She has been gone three days and she’s due back today, but they can’t wait for her any longer than they already have, because this lead is solid. Their marks may flee the town any time now so their crew needs to move fast.

Tired of her brooding, Abigail stands her ground next to her brown mare.

“You can’t run from it forever, Raelle.”

If looks could kill, there really isn’t any way to tell who would be left alive, because Abigail’s glare is just as strong as Raelle’s. Their horses feel the tension between the women, and they snort in protest, kicking dirt.

“I’m not running _from_ it anymore, Abigail.”

Raelle climbs onto her horse and lightly kicks his sides, leaving Abigail behind in a gallop. It isn’t long before she hears Abigail’s horse catching up behind her, and as she listens to the rhythmic beats of the hooves hitting dirt, she whispers to herself.

“I’m running _to_ it.”

***

Right at the first fissure of sunrise, their horses come to a stop at the seaside. The dirt is wet, the water is wild, and the air smells of salt and fish on this side of the port.

“I’ll scout.”

Raelle stays in place atop her horse as Abigail descends from hers and ties it to one of the nearby poles, specifically set up for people’s horses. There are a couple other horses already there, so Abigail makes a quick mental catalogue of them, as well as their surroundings.

People are milling around, merchants, buyers, and fishermen alike. Looking at the port, two other boats are already docked and unloaded, and most of the people grouped in the area are bartering. Abigail doesn’t think their mark is back yet, if he did indeed go out fishing today, so she decides to walk over to the group and check. Peeking over their shoulders at the newly caught fish in pails on the ground, she murmurs, “Did you get any cod today?”

The man who Abigail assumes owns the fish, quickly looks up at her. His teeth are yellow from tobacco when he says, “No, just some mackerel and herring, if you’re interested.”

Abigail acts disappointed, scratching at her temple. 

“I’m really craving cod today.”

“Then I’m sorry, can’t help ‘ya.” The man shrugs.

“Actually, maybe you can. I bought some from this guy the other day. From what I understand, it’s his specialty. He has brown hair, brown eyes, light skin, maybe about this tall.” Abigail raises a hand to about three inches over her head.

The guy looks at her confusedly. She basically just described someone who looks like him, so it could be anyone, really.

Abigail takes a deep breath, nearing the end of her patience. 

“Talks a lot?”

Recognition finally falls over the man’s face as he says, “Oh, Bryan? Well, I saw him sail out today, but he’s not back yet.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Abigail turns to walk back to Raelle, concealing excitement at finally having their target at her fingertips. She relays the information to the blonde, who in turn just nods while leaning against one of the poles, arms crossed, eyes far away into the horizon.

Now all they need to do is wait.

***

“You’re vibrating.”

“I’m not.”

“Raelle, I can feel it from five steps away.” Abigail glares at her friend.

Waiting, it turns out, is not easy after all, especially when Raelle’s aura is all over the place.

Raelle crosses her arms tighter around herself, still hiding her hands. She doesn’t want Abigail to be right, but god damn she is, _that Bellweather_. Raelle _is_ vibrating. Her thoughts are all over the place and it’s all she can do to stand still. Turns out she’s still bothering Abigail anyway. Sometimes it feels like a curse that they understand each other so well.

“Just… we haven’t been this close before.”

Abigail sighs in defeat and stares into the horizon as well. The sky is orange now, but in a matter of minutes it will be clear and blue.

“What are you afraid of?”

It’s Raelle’s turn to look at her friend. Abigail is avoiding her eyes, and Raelle is thankful to be given that privacy. She wouldn’t be able to say what she says next otherwise.

“You know what. We haven’t seen them in five years. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Abi.”

Abigail doesn’t miss the quiver in her voice.

“So you’re afraid of yourself, is that it?”

Raelle sighs and looks back at the sky far away ahead of her. _What if she ran away into that horizon?_ She thinks, not for the first time. What if she abandons the mission and just starts a life elsewhere? It’s stupid, really, because she knows the answer. She is a Knight Lieutenant to the Queen of the Medea Kingdom, and leaving will make her a deserter.

And deserters are hunted like game.

The answer to Abigail’s question, however, depends. Because yes, she is afraid of herself and what she’s going to do once she comes face to face with their targets, but she’s also afraid of the target themselves, despite there not being any physical danger.

Abigail accepts the silence as an answer, but decides to push Raelle today, just a little shove.

“How about we split up? The boat will be here in 15 minutes, tops. I’ll wait for Bryan here and you can go check his house for the wife.”

A quiet gulp from the blonde, hesitation.

“Or I can go and you can wait here,” Abigail offers.

Finally, Raelle says, “No, I’ll go.”

Raelle pushes herself off the pole and turns to walk towards the direction of the shore. They received a tip that Bryan is staying 500 meters from the port, a couple of feet off the shore. His ramshackle house is going to be hard to miss; it’s the only one in the general area.

Before she gets far, though, she feels something tug on the holster of her swords. She turns to find Abigail with a determined look on her face.

“You won’t need these.”

Raelle looks hesitantly at the swords strapped to her back, then finally concedes. Handing the twin blades to Abigail, and says, “Don’t get them anywhere near the saltwater. Rust is a pain in the ass to clean.”

Abigail chuckles at the halfhearted attempt at jest. They both know Raelle won’t need the swords, or any weapon, really, because their targets are not properly trained. Raelle and Abigail have that to their advantage. The truth is, Abigail is doing this in consideration of Raelle. She knows Raelle is not her knighthood, not her weapons, not her swords. She’s just _Raelle_ , the same girl who fell in love at eleven years old, only a little more hardened and skeptical now.

Abigail gives her a playful push. 

“Go, Rae.”

As she watches Raelle’s blonde hair sway with the strong wind on the shore, Abigail wishes her friend a silent good luck.

***

It wasn’t long after their first meeting that Scylla and Raelle found each other again at the same spot behind the generals’ barracks. Or, more like, Scylla found the blonde. And she wasn’t alone.

“Raelle.”

The eleven-year-old turned so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, and found the Princess at the edge of the trees. She didn’t know what it meant then, but her heart beat so fast at the sight of those clear blue eyes, but then it stuttered into a different rhythm when she saw a boy next to her.

“Your Grace,” Raelle greeted, a question in her eyes.

An eyebrow raised. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“But…” Raelle glanced at the boy, conveying she didn’t want to disrespect Scylla in front of another person.

The boy had the same brown and wavy hair as Scylla, only cropped short, but his eyes were of deep brown in color. He was taller than Scylla, thinner, too.

“Oh, he’s okay.” Scylla waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “He’s just my brother, Byron, the Crown Prince.”

“Although, I really would rather be a Crown Princess. I mean, her crown is so much prettier.” Byron quips, his voice a little too lively and bright for Raelle’s liking. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled warmly. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m looking forward to playing with you!”

Raelle’s eyes grew big in shock. _This—this is the future King_ , _and he’s talking like we’re already friends._ Although, technically he would only be King if Scylla happened to not inherit the throne for some reason, since she was first in line. But Raelle’s young mind blocked that in favor of panic.

Scylla had a mischievous glint in her eyes when Raelle looked back at her, and her lips carried a playful smirk as she walked closer to where Raelle was standing next to the makeshift target. She leaned dangerously close to Raelle’s face, and a whiff of lavender and sun filled the blonde’s senses.

“I may have told him I found a playmate who’s not an adult,” the Princess whispered into her ear.

Raelle shivered, but her mind couldn’t make itself up. She was unsure if it was excitement, or fear. After all, she was happy to find people who liked her and would happily play with her. But she was also scared of her mother finding out that she was playing around the grounds, and that she was doing so with the future rulers of their Kingdom.

Scylla then leaned away to explain. 

“You see, life at the palace is very monotonous. We’re allowed to play only at a certain time, and it’s always with an older member of the royal court. That isn’t very… fun. There are so many things we can’t do inside. So, what do you say to sharing this space and playing with us?”

Scylla flashed a radiant, expecting smile, and whatever reasoning Raelle had undoubtedly went flying out the window. How could anyone _not_ give everything to a girl with a smile like that?

“O—okay.”

Byron made an excited squeal that made Raelle jump. He then went to run around the clearing and it wasn’t long before he climbed up one of the trees. Scylla, on her part, just happily watched as her brother enjoyed himself.

As Raelle watched her new friends, she thought, _just… what am I getting myself into?_

***

Raelle quietly approaches Bryan’s bungalow. It’s small and looks lived in, made of straw held together by bamboo. The surrounding area looks safe, and the place is quiet, save for the crash of the waves on the shore not more than fifty feet away.

She presses her back against the wall next to the door and closes her eyes to listen carefully. There are movements inside, and it sounds like there’s only one person walking to and fro. Then there is a scrape of chair legs against concrete, another slide, and then silence.

Raelle gives it five seconds more before making up her mind. She’s not in any danger really, that she is sure of, so she carefully turns the knob and softly pushes the door open so as not to startle whoever is on the other side.

She finds Bryan’s wife sitting in a chair in the middle of the small room, looking at Raelle like she’s a friendly guest she had been expecting. Her hands are delicately crossed on her lap and she looks exactly like the young woman she was five years ago, only a lot less _royal_ now.

At the face of this reunion, Raelle remembers that moment long ago, when she was eleven, because she’s finally realized the dilemma that she had gotten herself into back then. Because the same two people she spent her childhood with, one of which being the woman she has sworn to serve, grew up to kill their own father, the King, and then went into hiding. Four years later, the Bellweather Unit was the best group fresh out of the Accolade, so it was only natural that they were chosen by the Queen to quietly track the fugitives, secrets and connivances and all, as their first mission as official Royal Knights.

And it took the Bellweather unit a year.

And now the unit has found them—found _her_.

Scylla Ramshorn, the brains behind the coup.

“Checkmate, _Princess_.”

Scylla smiles warmly, unperturbed by the mockery in Raelle’s voice.

“More like a stalemate.”

Neither player wins, but the game is over.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh ho ho, what now, Collar?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Changing your names to Bryan and Kayla, pretending to be married, picking up odd jobs here and there to pass as civilians—it’s textbook fugitives.”
> 
> “We both know it is not how you found me, Raelle. You just…” Scylla stops right in front of the blonde. They realize at the same time that they’re the same height now. Scylla was taller by two inches the last time they saw each other. Which feels like a lifetime ago now. “Know me so well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to ambush anyone for the rest of this story, hit up my great beta [RayllaChokehold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayllaChokehold) because aside from me, she has the answers ksksksks

Scylla Ramshorn knew Associate Training Commander Willa Collar from the handful of dinners they had spent together. From what she had seen, she could tell Raelle took after her. That serious look and those mature movements couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

Scylla understood that hiding something from Willa would never be easy, so she appreciated every single time that Raelle showed up in the clearing to play with them. They had been doing it for so long now that even Byron had started to grow on Raelle. She also learned to smile more frequently and be more carefree, like a proper child.

And Scylla loved knowing that she was the cause of it, directly or indirectly.

She didn't know what it was then, but there was something about the way Raelle carried herself that made Scylla feel safe around her. A Princess feeling safer around a girl one year younger than herself, as opposed to adult royal bodyguards, how unusual.

Scylla had already broken so many royal codes by befriending a paige, and she could already feel that she would break many more for her. She didn't mind, though. It made her happy to spend time with Raelle, even if getting back inside the palace after sneaking out was getting harder; they'd almost been caught a handful of times. And if they did get caught, it would result in tighter security around her and Byron, which would mean that they wouldn’t be able to sneak out and play anymore.

At age twelve, she was already playing a dangerous game.

As she got older, it just became even more dangerous.

By the time she was sixteen, Scylla wasn't worried about getting caught anymore. What she was most worried of, was Raelle.

Not in a way that Raelle would hurt her. As a matter of fact, Raelle treated her like a delicate flower. She took care of Scylla in the way she knew how, and that was mostly from her paige and squire training.

She held Scylla's hand down dangerous slopes as they explored the forest. She put the jacket off her back over puddles of mud to protect Scylla's shoes. She even started carrying around a wet cloth to clean Scylla's skin, clothes, and shoes, removing any clues as to where the royal children had been, before sending them back to the palace at the end of the day.

One day, on a lazy afternoon in the palace library, Byron slammed his book closed and pointed these observations out to Scylla, like he had been wanting to say them for a long time. He said the young squire had favoritism and asked why she never did the same for him, if her goal was to serve the royal family. He was the Crown Prince, after all.

They both knew it was just their usual sibling jab; it was how Byron communicated his thoughts. Scylla was sure Byron didn't mind, he preferred boys to do those things for him anyway and had confessed as much in the same moment.

However, his eyes held a different weight then, an unspoken message only understood by two people who had spent their entire lives together.

And that was where Scylla's fear was rooted, that Raelle's bias had become so obvious after all these years. It would only mean one thing, wouldn't it? That Raelle wanted to serve Scylla, and no one else. But Scylla didn’t want Raelle to _serve_ her. She didn’t want Raelle to serve at all. Because serving meant putting herself in danger to protect the royalties, and Scylla didn’t want that.

“And you, my dearest sister,” Byron said next with a soft hand on his sister’s cheek, “have a bias of your own.”

Byron was right, and Scylla didn’t bother hiding it, not even from the beginning. She reveled in the attention Raelle gave her, to the point that Byron had grown even closer to Tally as they all spent time together. Abigail, though, always kept her distance. Her reasoning was, “If you ever get caught, I can say I didn’t participate in anything,” although she went with the group when they explored the forest and swam in the nearby stream during their free time. The group collectively knew that Abigail enjoyed their escapades; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“And I’m not saying I don’t approve,” Byron finished as he leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes.

Scylla laughed shyly as she lightly smacked him with her own book. Byron pretended to be hurt, rubbing his arm, but once they’d calmed down, he teased her again.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you blushing earlier when our teacher was reading that _suggestive_ poem to us.”

“Byron!” Scylla reprimanded, still surprised by the mouth her brother had on him even after all these years. She aimed to hit him with the book again, but he stood up and twirled around the library as he recited the poem.

“At the touch of you, as if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, the arrows of delight shot through my body.”

Finally, he stopped at the huge windows to dramatically scream below, “You were spring, and I the edge of a cliff, and a shining waterfall rushed over me!”

By the time he was done, Scylla was way past embarrassment and was just laughing delightedly. Oh how she loved her brother and his childish heart so much.

“You were thinking of Raelle, weren’t you?” Byron raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Scylla playfully threw the book at him then, but it flew over his shoulder, out the window, and down to the courtyard below. They shared a dreadful look; the King would _kill_ them. So, almost at the same time, they both dashed to the door to retrieve the book.

Later that night, after a dinner with their father, Byron, then more somber and serious, dropped Scylla off at her own bedchamber. He touched her hair with a soft look in his eyes and for a moment Scylla felt like he was the older one between them, especially since he was taller than her now. He was playful, yes, but he was also wiser than his age.

“You should tell her,” He said with a kiss to her forehead, and then Scylla watched him go until he disappeared down the hall to his own chamber. Scylla had never felt so supported in her whole life.

And so that was what she did the next afternoon. Byron volunteered to cover for her. He kept the guards occupied as Scylla snuck out one of the windows in the castle, and ran without stopping, until she hit their meeting spot. The place was empty, so she sat on one of the fallen logs they’d set around in a circle, and waited patiently.

Right as the shadows hit that certain spot of the trees, Raelle’s silhouette appeared at the edge of the clearing, a sword dangling from her hand. She looked surprised to find Scylla there first.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming early. How long have you been here?”

Scylla smiled warmly, appreciative of the worry in Raelle’s voice.

“Worry not, Raelle. I did not mind waiting.”

She would have waited forever if she had to.

***

“Good game, huh?” Raelle comments as she rests her back on the door, arms crossed.

Scylla shrugs. “It wasn’t really exciting running away from you.”

“And yet you did so for five years.”

“Technically, it’s been one year, because for the first four years they sent ineffective mercenaries to find us. They were so easily tricked and lost.” Scylla chuckles and gets on her feet.

Raelle follows her movements carefully, but she has already surveyed the house and there’s really no other way in or out other than the door behind her, so she isn’t worried. In fact, she feels like Scylla is done running. She waited for Raelle to show up at her door, after all.

“Changing your names to Bryan and Kayla, pretending to be married, picking up odd jobs here and there to pass as civilians—it’s textbook fugitives.”

As the distance between them dwindles, Raelle’s breathing becomes more erratic. After all these years filled with pain and lies and betrayal, Scylla still has the same effect on her. She didn’t have the nerve to say it to Abigail earlier, but this was exactly what she was afraid of: the effect that Scylla Ramshorn has on her. Because Raelle has pretty good control of her own thoughts and decisions, but Scylla is the only exception. She _makes_ Raelle do things without saying anything.

And at the moment, Raelle blames Abigail, as a sad attempt to deflect the blame from herself, because now that she is without her trusted weapons, she feels bare. Vulnerable. And it’s the worst thing to feel in the middle of a battlefield. And _this_ _is_ a battlefield. It may not be as dangerous as war, but it’s dangerous to her own sanity.

Raelle forces herself to stand her ground, doesn’t remove her eyes from Scylla’s sapphire blue ones, and keeps her hands in fists to hide their tremors. It’s all she can do to act unaffected.

“We both know it is not how you found me, Raelle. You just…” Scylla stops right in front of the blonde. They realize at the same time that they’re the same height now. Scylla was taller by two inches the last time they saw each other. Which feels like a lifetime ago now. “Know me so well.”

It’s Raelle’s turn to shrug indifferently. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to know you like the ocean.”

“Of course not.” The smile disappears from Scylla’s lips so abruptly that Raelle sees a glimpse of the woman she is now, all fire and fight. “It only takes _you_.”

_Because I shared everything with you._

_Because I gave you my heart and dreamed of a future with you._

“You used _us_ to find _me_ ,” Scylla says as she reaches out, but before her index finger makes contact with Raelle’s chest, her wrist is caught in a grip, stopping her movements midair.

“You used me first,” Raelle spits.

They both look down at their connected hands, and Raelle immediately drops her wrist, as if it burns.

“Besides, I don’t care what your motives are for killing the King. Save it for the Queen. We’ll take you back immediately, so if you have things you want to bring—not that you will need them in the dungeons—you should get them ready now.”

Scylla watches as Raelle slams the door in her face and then looks down at her hand. It’s not visible to the eye, but her wrist burns.

Not from pain, because Raelle didn’t grip her hand hard enough for it to bruise.

Instead, it burns in the same way it always did when Raelle touched her—like her skin _recognizes_ the touch and has been aching for it for the longest time.

***

It didn’t take long for Raelle to realize that something was amiss, so she asked, “Where’s Byron?”

“He’s covering for me.”

Raelle sat down in the space next to Scylla on the log, and the bottom of Scylla’s light royal dress grazed Raelle’s boots. Even though they were close, Scylla still thought that she was farther than she would have liked.

Raelle looked closer at her, at the tell-tale signs of nervousness and worry, and gripped her sword tighter in her hands.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, we are okay,” Scylla appeased, and watched as Raelle’s hands relaxed. “It is just—”

Raelle stopped her hand from reaching out, although she really wanted to. She didn’t think the Princess would appreciate being touched like that. So instead she said, “It’s okay, you can tell me. You know I’ll fix it for you.”

Scylla finally met her eyes, and there were so many emotions in them; Raelle felt like a lost traveller in her own land. The blue she knew so well was turbulent. She hadn’t seen them like that before.

“Raelle, when you look at me, what do you see?”

The blonde was confused at the line of questioning, but she answered honestly. 

“I see my future Queen.”

And that was exactly the answer Scylla feared. She didn’t want to be _just_ a Queen, or a Princess even. She wanted _more_ , and she was so tired of trying to hold it all back. She was done trying to hide it. At the moment, she just wanted to _take_.

So she pressed on.

“Is that all you see?”

Raelle’s heart fell to her stomach. She had just a vague idea of where this was going. And it scared her, because something like that couldn’t be asked. Raelle was nothing but a squire, talented and almost top of her class, along with her unit, but she was still no one. She didn’t have any right at all to ask anything from the Princess. The time they spent together all these years was gift enough. What else could she possibly want?

“Do you only see the crown, Raelle?”

But Scylla’s eyes had tears at the edges, and above all else it broke Raelle’s heart. Broke her resolve. Broke every control she impossibly still had. There was no point in lying, was there? Because she knew, ever since that first moment, that all she would ever want to do was serve Scylla. But eventually, serving the future Queen wasn't the only thing she wanted anymore. Pretty soon, she wanted the Queen for herself, too. She couldn’t deny that in the face of the girl she had always dreamed of, could she?

Scylla abruptly stood up and walked to the nearby line of trees before pacing back to the log, obviously distressed.

“Is there nothing you want from me?”

Raelle stood and closed the short distance between them, leaving them standing there in silence. The wind played with their hair, and Raelle thought her heart had never beaten this hard before. Was she perhaps having what they called a heart attack? No matter, it was the best feeling she’d ever had. Like that quick adrenaline after jumping off a cliff and before plunging into waters.

“I want…” Raelle’s sword made a metal clang as it fell to the dirt and for a moment it was the only sound they could hear above the rush of blood in their ears. She gripped at the tip of Scylla’s long sleeve because she felt like getting on her knees and begging, but she knew Scylla didn’t like people looking up at her.

“I want _everything_.”

At this confession, Scylla used her free hand to grip the front of Raelle’s tunic and pulled them together as her heart desperately tried to claw its way out of her throat. As they leaned closer toward each other, she whispered against Raelle’s lips, “Then you shall have everything.”

That first contact of their lips felt like the countless explosions that Commanders had demonstrated during Raelle’s classes. It was exhilarating and so breathtaking that she feared passing out. Scylla smelled like lavender and sun when she was nearby, but from this close, she smelled like old books, too.

That kiss was every single thing Scylla had imagined while reading the restricted books in her father’s library, maybe even more. But the books could never have prepared her for _this._ This feeling like the ground disappeared from under her; she might as well be flying, had Raelle not gripped her sleeve to keep her grounded to the earth.

Out of breath, Scylla pulled away first, hand still gripping Raelle’s tunic. And as they looked at each other, Raelle discovered a different blue in her eyes. It was new, but it was a color she would soon familiarize herself with—desire.

“From now on,” Scylla panted, “when you look at me, I want you to see only _me_.”

“Your beauty shames the stars, and your virtues give a commanding power to every mortal, so of course, I shall not see anything else,” Raelle sincerely promised. _I am yours._

And if she allowed Scylla to flip their position and press her a little too aggressively against a nearby tree, if it meant tasting the smile on Scylla’s lips again, Raelle didn’t mind.

***

“Oh, hi, Raelle!”

The blonde looks up from her position leaning on the wall of the small hut to find Byron excitedly waving at her from the shore. Abigail is two steps behind him. He looks a little too happy to be an apprehended fugitive, if Raelle says so herself. But anyway, Byron had always been lively, and that’s what really made him get along with Tally so well. For others though, together, they are an explosion of colorful confetti. Pretty, but can be annoying at times.

He runs towards Raelle and stops before he wraps his arms around her. He notices the way Raelle is glaring at him. Abigail had briefed him, and apparently she is different now. He didn’t exactly fight when he saw Abigail at the shore earlier. Scylla and he had talked about it; no more running. So it was only a matter of days before the hunting team caught up to them. For Byron, though, it felt more like a reunion of long lost friends.

“Are you okay?”

“Stupid question, Byron,” Abigail says from behind him. “How about you get your things ready so we can go back as soon as possible? And try not to bring too much, we only have two horses.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t need things at the dungeon.” Byron waves dismissively. He spares a look between the two hesitantly before disappearing inside the hut.

Abigail sighs in relief before standing next to Raelle, back against the wall, a habit they all seem to have picked up from training— _always protect your blind spot_ —and studies Raelle’s form.

“How are you doing?”

Raelle crosses her arms tighter around herself but realizes it’s no use. No use to hide things from Abigail at all. She will see, because she knows where to look, and how to spot the signs. So Raelle lets her see. She lets her arms fall to her sides and allows her breaths to come in and out so hard it looks like she just ran for miles.

“Goddess, Raelle.” Abigail puts a hand on her shoulder to support her. “I haven’t seen you this shaken since—” She tops mid-sentence, remembering Raelle’s warning earlier in the day.

“Just,” Raelle pants, “let me process. It will pass.”

“O—okay,” Abigail reluctantly lets go of her shoulder and allows Raelle to rest her back against the wall again.

Raelle looks up at the blue skies and takes in deep breaths of salty air, desperately trying to calm herself down. The sound of the waves is calming as well, and she can feel it work, slowly at first, until the shakes are finally so minimal they can’t be seen anymore. Scylla is right after all, the ocean is calming.

When she’s finally breathing normally again, Raelle juts a thumb to the door of the hut. 

“What was that?”

“Byron? Well, he didn’t fight when he saw me. Actually, he acted like we’re still friends.” Abigail shrugs. “Did Scylla struggle?”

A shake of her head. 

“No.”

They share narrow looks and Abigail says, “That’s suspicious.”

“And above all that, where the hell is Tally?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Byron recited was “At The Touch Of You” by Witter Bynner and I know it couldn’t have existed at the time this fic is theoretically set (which I don't really know when so), but… please let me have that creative license lmao
> 
> Also… where _is_ Tally?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for THE backstory? Here we goooo

It should have been a peaceful night, like every other night before, but for some reason, Tally Craven was awoken, mid sleep, by loud shouts and heavy footsteps. It wasn’t just her, the whole quarters, which was lined from one wall to the other by sleeping cots used by all the other squires in her class, including Raelle and Abigail, started waking up too.

At the sign of panic in everyone’s faces, her first instinct was to find her unit. Abigail was to her right, already up and dressing hastily. Raelle, on her left, who just woke up with a confused look on her face.

“What’s happening?” Tally asked their leader.

“I have no idea, but it doesn’t sound good. You two stay here; I’m finding my mother to see where we can be useful.”

Knight Commander Bellweather would know what was happening, and the unit trusted Abigail to figure out what was causing the panic, so they let her go.

Tally started dressing herself too, and by the time Raelle was done they were already running out the door. The first sight she saw was Knights, officials, and lower ranks, running all around the place, screaming orders and gathering weapons and other supplies. The next thing she realized was that despite it being the middle of the night, their surroundings were much too bright. It was then that she saw the giant fires everywhere; all of the Knight’s quarters had been set ablaze, illuminating everything, including the sky above. 

“We’re under attack!” A soldier screamed, lost in the chaos of bodies and collapsing buildings.

Raelle and Tally shared a look. Attack? By whom? They weren’t in a war, as far as they knew. The King was ruthless, sure, but his enemies couldn’t have attacked out of nowhere. Shouldn’t there have been a rumor of it? It didn’t matter now, though, because they _were_ under attack and they couldn’t afford to stand around just staring.

“We really should be helping, Tal!”

“But Abigail will look for us!”

Raelle gritted her teeth and then decided, “We’ll find her after.”

They had been trained throughout their lives to know what to do in times like this. Squires were in charge of the weapons, armor, and other supplies. So, they covered their mouths with their shirts as they navigated the fires and ran through the crowd towards the weaponry. Tally held onto Raelle’s sleeve so as not to get separated. The smoke was everywhere, and it started to look like not only the quarters were on fire. Upon this realization, Raelle stopped running so suddenly that Tally smacked right into her back.

“What’s wrong?”

Tally followed the line of her friend’s eyes, up to the castle. It, too, was on fire, as well as the courtyards below. Her breath escaped. She looked at the blonde just in time to see the way her face hardened in determination.

“Raelle… don’t.”

“Scylla is… she is in there! I have to find her!” Raelle insisted, despite coughing due to smoke inhalation.

Tally tightened her grip on Raelle’s sleeve.

“It’s dangerous, Raelle! Plus, it’s the Knight officials’ job!”

Raelle struggled to remove her sleeve from Tally’s grip so hard that she got hit by a Knight running past. She fell to her knees, but someone immediately grabbed her shirt by the collar and picked her up. It was her mother, in full battle armor. The shiny breastplate reflected the red, orange, and yellow light, dancing from the fires.

“What are you doing?” She reprimanded.

Tally and Raelle were young, sure, but the wild in Willa’s eyes was enough to make them understand that this wasn’t just a normal attack. It may be more serious than they thought.

“Mom... it’s—the Princess…” Raelle couldn’t finish her sentence due to the smoke.

Willa was confused. What was her daughter trying to say? _The Princess?_ Why would she be worried about the Princess? And then it dawned on her. All those times Raelle was nowhere to be found, and the news of the royal children also suspiciously spending too much time in different rooms in the castle not wanting to be disturbed… She turned her eyes to Tally, a question unasked.

Tally nodded slowly, then watched the realization appear on Willa’s face. She was scared for Raelle, of course, but there couldn’t have been a better person to know the truth. Raelle was her daughter, after all. Tally also thought it was about time. If this attack was more serious than they thought, this night was when it really mattered. She just wanted the best for Raelle.

“Mom, please… save Scylla,” Raelle begged.

Willa cursed under her breath and then shook Raelle one last time. 

“We’re talking about this after all this! You make yourself useful and help the other Knights. I’ll look for the royal children.”

The two watched Willa disappear into the fire and smoke. Tally forced Raelle to face her with both hands on her shoulders. She put on her best in-control voice as she said, “You heard her, Raelle. You should trust her.”

Raelle, albeit still a little dazed and scared, nodded. 

“Yes. I do.”

“Okay, now we need to go!”

Tally, with her hand still on Raelle’s sleeve, led them this time on their way to the weaponry; hoping it hadn’t been set afire yet.

The night was a blur, in between bringing weapons to their superiors and passing around supplies, they even managed to help put out the fires by filling buckets from the well and passing them around to others until they reached their destinations. By the time the fires were extinguished, Tally and Raelle were tired to the bone, and their bodies and clothes were covered in soot. It felt like they had been fighting an invisible enemy.

By the time things had died down, it was already sunrise. A General rounded up the squires and brought them into the training ground to brief them. Everyone was confused about what had even happened and who was even their enemy, and the officials tried to explain. Raelle didn’t hear it, though, because Anacostia Quartermaine separated her from Tally to talk to her privately. The look on the woman’s face wasn’t inviting, and Raelle already feared the worse.

“Where’s Abigail?”

Anacostia sighed. “She’s with Knight Commander Bellweather, and she’s okay.”

“Then what—?” Raelle couldn’t finish her sentence as Anacostia opened her palm, revealing a sword that Raelle didn’t realize she had been carrying. All she needed was to see the pommel. It was shaped like a bowerbird’s foot with a blue jade stone grasped in its claw—it was her mother’s.

“We couldn’t identify all the bodies in the fire… but this was found on one of them.”

If anyone asked, Raelle would say that that was the day Medea Kingdom fell, but most especially it was when _she fell_. Everyone learned later on that the King had perished, yes, but above all else her mother did, too. Willa Collar’s body was so badly burned that Raelle couldn’t even look at her. She was buried in a mass grave along with all the others who perished in the fight, all indistinguishable from each other.

Raelle didn’t take it lightly. If Raelle was already aloof before, she was even worse after the funeral. Even Tally and Abigail couldn’t get through, because on top of her mother’s passing and the King’s untimely demise, the whole Kingdom had learned that the attack was orchestrated by two people from the inside—the King’s own children, Scylla and Byron. Discovering the fact that your girlfriend was a traitor was not easy to accept. She was blindsided by love even after Willa had warned her so many times before, so Raelle carried that betrayal and self-loathing around, too.

Tally Craven had watched all of this unfold. If she could, she would have taken half of Raelle’s burdens for her, because she hated seeing her friend like that. She hated seeing Raelle angry at the world, and most especially, angry at herself. Even Abigail had started to go soft on her, but Raelle was tough. All they really could do was help her get stronger in training, and support her in whatever she put her mind to, no matter how rare that was. As a result, their unit topped their class.

The next ruler was crowned almost immediately after the attack—the King’s sister, Queen Sarah Alder, and on the coronation day she promised to find the people who killed her brother in the same breath as she promised to bring the Kingdom back to its feet. For the latter, she was successful. But as for the former, well, she tried her best, but the people she hired were inadequate. And after four years without results, she decided to task the best unit, fresh from the Accolade, to help find her niece and nephew.

And with that development, it looked like she would finally succeed in that, too.

***

Raelle sat on the sand after her breakdown, her back still against the outer wall of the small hut. Abigail is in the same position, and has been grabbing fistfuls of sand, letting it sift through her fingers for what feels like hours. Earlier, they agreed to wait for Tally until just past noon and it’s about that time now.

Before Abigail can say anything, Raelle removes one of her swords from her back. The gold pommel of this particular sword is shaped like a bird’s claw grasping a blue jade stone. The grip is wrapped with maroon animal skin, and the gold cross-guard has pointed ends, curved in a similar way to the tips of a ram’s horn. On one of the two sharp edges, an inscription occupies the length of the blade, reflecting the sunlight— _For everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened—_ the Collar family’s adage.

Raelle has carried it with her since Willa’s death.

“Momma warned me, you know.”

Abigail just stares at the way Raelle’s fingers trace the engraved words absentmindedly.

“Don’t fall in love, she said, all it does is make you weak.” Raelle snorts, a chuckle devoid of happiness. “She was right.”

“I don’t know,” Abigail answers good-naturedly, “you seem pretty strong to me.”

Raelle looks at her friend and finds comfort there. It’s enough to forget for a second that the woman she’s loved all her life, who is a traitor now, is separated from her by just a single wall. They share a small smile then, and that too is enough to forget for a second that her mother died trying to save said traitor.

“Enough of this wallowing,” Abigail says as she gets on her feet, the concern in her eyes is different now. “We really ought to get going. We’ll go back the way we came, so in case Tally is heading this way, we’ll see her on the road. We’ll ride hard and fast because I’m starting to get worried. She’s never been this late before.”

“You got it, Bells.”

“And oh, the horse situation?” Abigail raises one perfectly arched eyebrow.

Raelle takes a deep breath, and then puts her mother’s sword back in its maroon animal skin scabbard, schooling her features into a controlled expression. “I’m good with whatever you decide.”

“You sure?”

“Aye.”

Five minutes later, Raelle starts questioning her decision; what did she do to deserve to be in this situation? Byron is on Theron with her, and Scylla is with Abigail on Lysandra. Earlier, it felt like the preferred arrangement, but when Byron clings onto her like a scared little boy, Raelle decides that she’s made the wrong choice. This realization is only solidified when Raelle notices that Scylla isn’t hugging Abigail for dear life; she’s just calmly holding onto the other woman’s sword belt, effortlessly going along with the gallop.

_That’s right, she has always been more comfortable on a horse than Byron. And it’s because of her that I am, too._

No point in thinking about that though, because by sundown they arrive at their previous lodging, the one they just vacated early this morning. Raelle immediately disentangles herself from Byron’s grip and checks the symbol she drew on the sand. It’s undisturbed, as well as the rock pointing north. She looks around in the close vicinity, utilizing the remaining light from the sun. No disturbance. Nothing at all, like no one has been there since they left.

“Nothing.” Raelle looks up to her leader, who’s still atop her horse, and tries to ignore Scylla looking interchangeably between the two of them.

“Oh for Goddess’s sake, all this not talking!” Byron quips, clearly exasperated. “What is even happening?”

Raelle throws him a glare, but Abigail answers without looking at him. 

“Tally’s supposed to be with us by now.” She then directs her attention back to Raelle. “What do you think?”

Raelle gets a faraway look on her face as she thinks and Scylla gets a peek of her younger self in that expression. Raelle used to do this when she was deep in thought, or when she was analyzing a situation, and apparently she still does. Scylla called it her “hunting look” back then, and at this memory, her heart protests.

_No, don’t._

Trying to distract herself, she looks away, and in the process, catches Theron’s eyes. There’s a sliver of recognition in their black depths, but there’s suspicion too. Absentmindedly, Scylla lifts her hand in his direction. He snorts and shakes his head. Hesitation. And then, unexpectedly, he moves forward and Byron yelps in surprise.

At the sound, Raelle snaps back to reality. They all look at the stallion as he cautiously nudges his muzzle against Scylla’s fingertips, and then finally, at the woman’s familiar scent, he nuzzles his jowl on her palm.

A small smile plays at Scylla’s lips as she caresses his cheek. 

“Good boy, Theron,” she murmurs.

The smile isn’t lost on Byron. He hasn’t seen Scylla smile like that since… well, since they were forced to run away. It tugs at his chest, a hint of regret for all the things they lost. He’s then hit with a wave of sadness, for all the things they had to leave behind, for his sister, especially—a love he never pretended to understand, but was happy Scylla had, regardless.

Raelle breaks the trance as she clicks her tongue in admonition, and Scylla’s happy moment is broken. It seems like Theron’s is too, because he neighs in protest and lifts both front legs into the air. Byron squeals louder, clinging onto the reins so tight his hands are white.

“Raelle!” He calls.

“Theron!” In a split second, Raelle is beside him, calming him down with a hand on his flank. She whispers softly, close to his ear, until he finally steadies. She stares at Scylla with a warning.

“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t provoke him again.”

“I didn’t provoke him, you did,” Scylla whispers under her breath. Abigail hears her perfectly though, and she isn’t able to stop a snort from bubbling up through her throat. She concedes, Scylla is right.

“What?” Raelle throws at Abigail.

The woman shrugs nonchalantly.

“Nothing. So, your thoughts?”

Raelle focuses on the problem at hand and concludes, “We should go to the Town of Alexandros. We can take the route she took to get there, because if I know her, she’ll come back that same way. If she’s already en route, then we’ll see her on the road.”

Abigail gives a distinct nod and after consulting a map from one of the saddlebags, they’re on their way again, with Raelle leading the group. They immediately find the service road that travellers use. It’s empty and quiet, for the most part. The lack of conversation bores Byron, however, so he belts a horrible sea shanty—which he learned from being around sailors and fishermen for the past year—that almost scares off the horses.

 _“What will we do with a drunken sailor?_ _  
_ _What will we do with a drunken sailor?_ _  
_ _What will we do with a drunken sailor?_ _  
_ _Early in the morning!”_

They manage to ride fast for the long stretch of flat land that separates the shore from the Mountains of Emerbron. But their route goes up the mountain, and the path wraps along its slopes,lined with dangerous cliffs that stretch for miles, so it isn’t long before they have to slow down and take it easy.

The town is right on the other side of the mountain, and Scylla knows this from peeking over Abigail’s shoulder as she conferred with the map earlier. She hasn’t been there personally, but the name is familiar enough. It’s the second town closest to the Town of Gezu after all, and they have been living there for a year.

Byron and Scylla have travelled extensively during the years since they left the palace. It feels good to have explored, and she knows they wouldn’t have been allowed to travel if they were still crowned. The crown has as many burdens as it has jewels, maybe even more. But, if she really thinks about it, all those travels have just been a glamorized way of _running_. And Scylla is tired of running.

This march that they’re on right now feels like their last, and Scylla has to admit that it’s a good last journey. The views from the edges of the mountain are nice. The sky is pink and purple, and the sunset is pretty from this high up.

But it’s even prettier reflected off the white of Raelle’s hair.

Hard as she tries to avoid it, Scylla’s eyes keep fleeting over to the blonde. The sunset is to her side, and her eyelashes are gold. It even accentuates the scar on her chin and the height of her cheekbones. It reminds Scylla of the afternoons they used to spend at the stream quite a distance away from Raelle’s training space. At fifteen, they had combed through that forest and come across that river in a desperate attempt to hide from Raelle’s new unit, Tally Craven and Abigail Bellweather. Months later, Abigail revealed she’d always known where Raelle was disappearing to, which meant Tally also knew, but they were surprisingly okay with it. Eventually, all three of them, and the two royal children, started sneaking out together.

In that river, the water was always cold, but it was so pretty, especially when the sun reflected off of it. In afternoons during summer, the water was only slightly warmer from the harsh sun at noon, and so that was their favorite time to visit. Scylla used to just sit on the banks and watch them all swim, sometimes she’d join but her hair was too long and it barely dried before they’d have to go back to the palace. Going home with wet hair would raise some questions, especially if her alibi was that she’d spent all day at the library. So, she avoided swimming as much as she _could_ , which meant when Raelle _really_ asked that she join them, with the sun in her hair and that godforsaken grin hanging off her lips, that’s when Scylla _would_. 

It was eventually in that place, in the rare moments when Raelle managed to sneak out on Tally and Abigail, that they first made love. Young and clumsy, with the water all around them and Raelle’s arms around her. Scylla had kept her eyes on Raelle’s as she removed her under gown, baring freckled arms and shoulders, and a hint of a blushed bosom above the water. Raelle took a deep breath at the sight, scared and excited all at once. She looked like she couldn’t believe Scylla would want anything from her, but was compelled to believe it when Scylla whispered in her ear, “I want you, Raelle,” to which Raelle gave all of herself to the blue-eyed siren, and then more.

“Lay off on the belt, Ramshorn.”

Scylla crashes back to reality at the edge in Abigail’s voice. She looks down at her hands and realizes that she is, indeed, gripping the other woman’s sword belt a little too hard, her knuckles almost white.

She blushes harder, like she wasn’t just blushing from the memory of her first time with Raelle, and mutters, “My apologies.”

She removes one hand and grips the saddlebag behind her instead. It’s not even a second later that her eyes are back on Raelle, discretely stealing a glance. Byron catches her look, however, and sends her a questioning eyebrow. Scylla just sighs and resigns to her fate, closing her eyes instead.

It’s so unfair. How does a beauty like that exist and Scylla is not allowed to admire it anymore?

***

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we doing so far? Any thoughts on the story? Please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned [RayllaChokehold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayllaChokehold) is the best beta? Yes? Well, I'm saying it again!

"Don't think I don't notice, Raelle."

The blonde pulled an innocent look—poorly acted, if Scylla was being honest. 

"Notice what?"

Scylla raised a challenging eyebrow. 

"Your sword."

"What about it?"

"You hide it from me whenever we're together."

To seal her point, Scylla glared at the item in question, wedged in between two boulders closest to Raelle, and farthest from Scylla. They sat at the side of the river; the water was warm that time of year and the stream was calm. The sun had started to set and it reflected on the water. The view was so serene, enough to render anyone speechless.

There wasn’t a view like that inside the palace, even from the highest towers. All that Scylla and Byron could see from the lower floors were the walls surrounding the palace, and from the highest towers, the village closest to the walls. There, the stream was of people, bustling around doing their businesses. People weren’t as fun to watch as the water in front of them then.

Raelle followed Scylla's look and her eyes fell on the sword, too. Like everything she owned, this one was a gift from Willa as well, which she received after two years of being a squire. It wasn't as intricate as her mother's, but it was made from a decent metal forged by the palace's best blacksmith apprentices. It wasn't as glamorous as Abigail's High Atlantic sword was, of course, but it was a good entry sword for a young squire such as Raelle, and she loved practicing with it. She even started bringing it everywhere she went. However, Scylla had noticed that when she was around, Raelle kept it either on her hip that was farthest from Scylla, or put aside somewhere that she couldn't touch it.

"What do you mean? I don’t—"

"Are you really going to lie to royalty?" Scylla quipped, a challenge dancing in the deepest blues of her eyes.

"No, Your Highness." There was a tinge of ribbing in Raelle's response, too. She had grown comfortable enough with Scylla to kid around. She had even learned that Scylla quite enjoyed it.

The response earned Raelle a weak shove, but she felt like it was more of a reward because Scylla was laughing.

"So, pray tell," Scylla pressed, “why do you do that?”

The playfulness trickled out of Raelle, replaced by seriousness tinged with a little bit of embarrassment.

"I just... I'm just trying to keep you safe from it. It's sharp and dangerous and I know you've been dying to try wielding it, but I can't allow you to. There's always a risk of you getting hurt and I don't want that to happen. If you get hurt, the royal court would wonder what happened and I might not... see you again."

Scylla let this sink in as silence enveloped them again.

When Raelle started fidgeting, worried she said something wrong, Scylla finally broke the silence, unable to allow Raelle to be anxious over something so trivial.

“Raelle, I appreciate that you put my safety above all else.” Scylla looked her in the eyes then, conveying understanding. “But I am not fragile. I can take care of myself just as well. Goddess knows that is what the palace is trying to make of me—a ruler who does not know how to tie her own corset, or cook her own food—but I refuse to be that.”

Fire flashed in her eyes, and Raelle involuntarily shuddered. She knew the look, it was one that Scylla got when she was being serious and adamant. It scared her, but not because she thought it was directed at her or about her. It scared her because it was exactly the determination in Scylla’s heart and mind that, if left unchecked, had the power to potentially make her fight for something she thought was right, even though it may be wrong. So, Raelle made it her job to keep track of that side of Scylla.

“I want to be able to protect myself, at least. I do not want to depend on anyone about everything.”

Raelle carefully listened to her words, silently worrying her bottom lip. Finally, she nodded.

“Okay. I can teach you the basics, but that will be all I’m willing to share.”

A line drawn. Scylla could respect that. It was better than nothing, she mused. Eventually, when she was older, she could get a proper private training.

A smile broke across her face.

“That should be good enough.”

So their sword training started that day. And then, not even a year later, the attack that the royal children orchestrated broke out. Raelle couldn’t help but wonder if the sword that killed the King was Scylla’s.

Did Raelle, indirectly, kill the King by training the person who did it?

***

It isn’t long after the sunlight is gone that the small group is forced to stop for the night. The cliffs are already dangerous during the day, they become much more hazardous at night, and Abigail does not want Tally to find their corpses over the cliffs below when she does pass by, so she decides to call it a night.

Raelle is restless, obviously still wanting to weather the treacherous road, but she knows better than to question Abigail’s leadership, so instead, she starts putting up a small flimsy tent for whoever gets to sleep tonight. They have a spare tarp they keep in the saddlebags for times like this, and finding strong sticks to act as tent poles isn’t too hard as the mountain is littered with trees. It’s under these trees that they decide to spend the night, some distance away from the path so that they stay hidden from other travelers or bandits who might steal things while the camp is asleep.

In the middle of their small camp, Abigail is poking at a small bonfire when Byron approaches her.

“So… if Tally is supposed to be your supply runner, what do we have now in terms of dinner if she’s not here?”

Abigail sighs. She didn’t really account for two additional people when they saved the emergency food after Tally left, but Byron didn’t need to know that. 

“There are a couple cans of soup in the saddlebags.”

They will eat all the food tonight, she presumes, so they really need to reach town tomorrow to restock. They still have a couple of golds and silvers to buy supplies with, and that should last until they can find Tally.

“Actually,” Byron pauses, and then brandishes the small cloth bag tied on his waist, the only thing he brought from their humble home, really, “here. There are dried fish in there. I caught them and Scylla seasoned them.”

Scylla startles at the mention of her name. She’s taken a seat on the other side of the fire, and up until then, she had just been spacing out, watching the flames.

“Pardon?”

“I was just telling Abigail here that you made the dried fish.” Byron settles next to his sister and watches as Abigail peeks inside the bag.

“We appreciate that you thought about sharing this with us, but I can’t help asking,” Abigail says, the fire dancing in her eyes. “What’s happening _here_? You hide for almost five years, and then suddenly just… what? Surrender without a fight? And feed your captors?”

The siblings share a look, and then Scylla glances at Raelle a few paces away, who is watching the two horses graze. Her back is facing the group, but the tension in her shoulders is unmistakable. Scylla then looks down at her wringing hands, calloused now, and briefly wonders what Raelle would think of them, now that they’re not as flawless as before. She then admonishes herself for thinking such a thing. It doesn’t matter what Raelle thinks now, not anymore. Ever since she took up the job to track them.

“We fought you and the ones before you, Abi.” The old moniker unintentionally slips and it’s too late to catch, so Scylla continues instead. “For longer than we ever thought we could. But we are done. We are not running from you anymore.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Ramshorn.”

 _Why does that name sound like slander coming from her mouth?_ Scylla wonders. A name for Kings and Queens, and it sounds like an insult out of a Bellweather’s mouth. Knight Commander Bellweather would have flown off the handle if she heard the way Abigail talked to her.

“You are not our enemy, Abigail, can you not see?”

“Abigail!” Before anyone can say anything, Raelle comes running toward them, eyes wild and focused over Abigail’s shoulder.

Abigail immediately turns around, brandishing her sword in one practiced swoop, and finds three men covered from head to toe, only their eyes are visible in the dark. The trees’ shadows hid them well until they decided to reveal themselves. One of them carries a spear, the other a flail in either hand, and the last one a sword.

“Give us your horses and your things, and no one gets hurt,” the one in the middle threatens.

Against every instinct she has to attack, Abigail shares a look with Raelle and they immediately go into a familiar formation. This isn’t their first bandit attack, after all. Their backs face each other, with the royal children in between them. It’s not their duty to protect them anymore, but they still don’t want the Ramshorns dying while in their custody.

Scylla then tries to come out of the protective circle.

“I am not going to stand here and let these men butcher us.”

“We got this,” Abigail answers.

“No! With only two of you, you are outnumbered.” Scylla whips to glare at Raelle. “Raelle?”

The blonde raises an eyebrow with her eyes still trained on the enemies who are encircling them now. The one in front of her is closing the distance between them slowly, his sword in attack position. Raelle has her personal sword clutched in both hands—a personalized weapon with a small crown as a pommel, and a bird skull as a crossguard—but then flips it over to offer the handle to Scylla without removing her eyes from the man.

“You still remember how to use this?”

Scylla smirks, snatches the sword from her hands and then slashes at their enemy in the same second. He immediately blocks the strike with his weapon, but the force makes him stagger. Scylla raises both eyebrows at Raelle in a smug look, then proceeds to ruthlessly attack the man, forcing him into a defensive position, just like Raelle taught her all those years ago.

Amused, and maybe a little bit proud, Raelle unsheathes her mother’s sword and takes on the assailant with the two flails, while Abigail attacks the one with the spear. It’s a blur of attacks and defenses while they keep Byron safe in the middle; the sound of metal on metal rings out into the night. Byron uses his vantage point to shout directions, helping the women anticipate the attacks. This strategy works for a while, until the man that Raelle’s fighting loses his flails due to one of Raelle’s forceful hits and he falls to the ground. Before Raelle can scare him into submission, however, he gets up and starts running. Catching him would require Raelle to break the protective circle, and with a glance of approval from Abigail, who’s busy with her own fight, she runs after him. 

But then, Abigail watches from the corner of her eye as the guy with the sword runs after Raelle, which in turn makes Scylla run after him, too.

“Shit!”

The circle is completely broken, and she’s left defending Byron. The speared man is turning out to be a formidable foe, and the reach of his weapon is so much farther than Abigail’s. She’s struggling to get close enough to make contact. It’s starting to piss her off, and pissing off a Bellweather is never a good idea.

“Oh, you are _so done_!” Abigail cries as she attacks the man with all her force.

Meanwhile, Raelle sprints after the other man. The low hanging branches slash at her face and arms, but she keeps her eyes on the enemy. She hears footsteps behind her so she looks back over her shoulder. Just before the trees completely obstruct the light of their fire, she sees the other male figure chasing her and what unmistakably looks like Scylla’s silhouette in the dark.

She forgoes worrying about what’s happening behind her in lieu of running after the other man. It’s not long before they reach the edge of the trees and the service road appears in front of them. Raelle thanks the gods when the man doesn’t run down either direction, but instead keeps straight—over towards the cliffs. Before reaching the edge, he turns to face her. Raelle can only see the whites of his eyes under the light of the moon as she comes to a stop, sword poised. The sword glints under the moonlight as she raises it to his neck, a centimeter of breath for mercy.

“Surrender and I won’t have to hurt you,” Raelle offers.

His eyes curve into a smile and Raelle watches in disbelief as he allows his body to fall down into the ravine below. She tries to reach for him but is too late. Instead, she closes her eyes at the image of his body cracking over the boulders.

The footsteps from behind catch up to her then, and just as she turns around to face the commotion, she sees the other man turn on his heels and catch Scylla in his arms, taking advantage of her momentum. The metal of her sword clangs to the dirt, forgotten.

“Raelle!” Scylla manages to call before the man tightens an arm around her neck.

Raelle watches the fear in Scylla’s eyes, which she’s sure is reflected in hers too. She grips her mother's sword tighter between both hands.

“Let her go!”

The man has the audacity to chuckle. He drags Scylla around as Raelle encircles them. In three steps, their back is to the cliff too. He threatens to throw Scylla over and Raelle jerks into panic.

“Don’t!” Raelle removes one hand off her weapon and raises it to the side, palm open to appease.

“What do you want? We’ll give it to you.”

“I already have here what I want,” he says maliciously. “Let us go and she lives. Don’t and we jump over the cliff.”

Just then, a strong whiff of air passes by Raelle’s ear from the back. Her eyes grow wide as she watches an arrow strike the man’s arm. He screams in surprise and loses his footing, bringing him and Scylla over the edge.

The blonde’s name is the sound of Scylla’s scream before she disappears below.

“Scylla!” Raelle yells in panic.

Raelle immediately runs forward and releases a breath of relief to find the brunette hanging onto the edge below, clinging on for dear life. She’s at least two feet below the edge, on a narrower ledge of rock and dirt. The two men's distorted bodies lay a hundred feet below her.

“Raelle, help me!” The panic in her voice is unmistakable, her dark eyes teary.

There’s no way Raelle can reach her even if she lies on her stomach. Acting quickly, she flips her sword around and grasps at the sharp edges with bare hands. She feels the sting of the first cuts, but still offers the hilt over the cliff towards Scylla.

“Reach for the handle!”

With a small hesitation, but really no choice, Scylla uses her remaining strength to grab the sword. The blade digs deeper into Raelle’s palms as she tightens her grip, but she grits her teeth and pulls up anyway, with all the force she can muster. She then feels arms wrap around her torso as someone helps her pull Scylla up and over the edge. Finally, they succeed, and the sword drops to the ground, covered in Raelle’s blood.

Raelle doesn’t get the chance to check her injuries, because her attention is immediately taken by the form behind her. The arrow—

Raelle turns to look at the figure. The person pulls down the hood of their shawl to reveal red hair, kind eyes, and a dimpled smile.

“Tally!” Abigail exclaims before Raelle can speak, as she comes running from the direction of their camp, Byron fast on her heels.

They fall into a huge hug that neither Raelle nor Abigail will admit they want to be in, although they do.

“I’m gone for a minute and you’re already getting mugged?” Tally comments.

Abigail then breaks their hug to lightly smack Tally’s arm.

“Where were you? We were getting worried!” She admonishes, seamlessly slipping into her leadership role.

Tally smiles wider, if that is even possible.

“Well, when I was collecting supplies, I found something else.”

She points an open palm to the horse she abandoned on the side of the path, a small wooden wagon strapped behind. It’s filled with items covered with brown cloth. The group assumes it’s food and other accoutrements to last them for their journey back to Medea. What takes their attention, though, is the other hooded figure sitting adjacent to one of the wooden wheels. The person then stands to their full height and brings their hood down.

The blonde hair with streaks of white is unfamiliar to Raelle, but the blue eyes that stare back at her are as familiar as her own—a pair she never thought she would see again.

“Momma?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Willa is alive! (Like we didn’t already know that lol)


End file.
